


too much to lose

by parkerprotectionprogram



Category: tom holland - Fandom
Genre: F/M, angsty kind of, its angsty, uhh, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-09-07 05:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkerprotectionprogram/pseuds/parkerprotectionprogram
Summary: he’ll do better. he has to





	too much to lose

**Author's Note:**

> it is worth noting it is 1:30 am and i wrote this half deliriously in a panic of ohnoamilosingmycreativity also i have been listening to mamma mia on repeat for the past two hours

“Darling, you’re killing me here,” he groans, leaning his arm against the firmly shut door.

A pause, and then the faint sound of sniffles, muffled through the door, reaches his ears. He feels his heart drop and he closes his eyes, dropping his head to thump against the door.

“Good. Die,” comes the tearful response and then a hasty, “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry.”

A small grin makes its way onto his face, despite the situation.

“And I didn’t mean the awful things I said,” he pleads with her, willing her to understand the anguish and remorse that had washed over him like a wave of icy water the moment he’d seen her face stunned into silence and shutter, throwing her walls up before he could even get an apology. “I was tired and I know that’s no excuse, love. I was the biggest twit and you didn’t deserve that.”

He thinks he hears a muttered, “Damn straight I don’t, but  _thank you_  for validating that. Git.” and bites back a laugh at the spite in your tone.

“Would you open the door? Please?”

A stubborn “No.” sounds and he groans.

“Come on, sweetheart, open the door, please. I’m begging you here, and ‘m telling you now I will stay out here all night if I have to.”

“Go home, Tom,” she says, and he hears the weariness in her voice, like she’s tired and for some reason, he thinks that maybe,  _this is it. This is the final straw. She’s had enough._  He doesn’t know what to make of the churning feeling in his stomach, pushing it aside to make one final plea. He wants to tell her that as cheesy as it is, as tooth rottingly sweet the sentiment,  _can’t she see that he’s not really home unless she’s there?_

“I just, I hate the idea of you going to bed upset, knowing that I caused that and you’re upset with  _me_. Can we just talk about this please?” he says softly, as though he knows she’s standing on the other side of the door, because he knows. He knows her too well, all her mannerisms and quirks. And then, he thinks, perhaps he spoke too soon because he has no idea what to expect of her response.

The silence that follows his words stretches for far too long from seconds into minutes and he feels his stomach clench uncomfortably. He feels his eyes sting with tears when he realises she’s not going to open the door, that they might well and truly be done - and because of his own stupidity, too.

He releases a shaky breath, gulping down the lump in his throat and steps back. His hand raises to swipe messily at his eyes when there’s a click and the door swings open slowly.

He raises his eyes to meet equally puffy ones and he chokes out a watery laugh when she grins tentatively at him, managing to calm all the raging butterflies in his stomach with a single look.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she whispers back, meeting his gaze for a moment before flicking her eyes down.

“I’m sorry,” he says sorrowfully, willing his hand to stay by his side and not reach out for her, not touch her face and hold her like he’s used to.

They stand like that, across from each other, fidgeting and slightly unsure still, until she tilts her head and mumbles a soft, “C’mon.”

He relishes in the feeling of her slipping her hand into his and gently tugging him towards the room, closing the front door behind them. Somehow, they find themselves entangled on the bed, legs and arms pressed against each other and faces inches apart.

He draws small circles on her arms and she sighs softly, eyes slipping shut for just the briefest moment before she opens them again and mumbles, “We can…we can talk tomorrow but right now, I just want you t’ hold me.”

“I can do that,” he agrees, leaning forward to kiss her forehead gently, eliciting a happy coo.

 _He’ll do better. He has to_ , he thinks, looking down at the sleeping girl in his arms.  _He’s got too much to lose_.

 


End file.
